


If I Could Turn Back Time

by Fanofthearts



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, Dissociation, F/F, Grief/Mourning, No Dialogue, Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:31:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanofthearts/pseuds/Fanofthearts
Summary: She didn’t need to look down at her watch to know the time. The sun was now shining through the stained glass windows of the church, bathing both women in a broken spectrum of colour.





	If I Could Turn Back Time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Iordio for looking this thing over :) 
> 
> Of course everyone is writing fluffy pride stories and I wrote this.

_If I could turn back time,_

_If I could find a way,_

_I’d take back those words that have hurt you,_

_And you’d stay…_

\--

Words swirled around Serena’s head like midges in summer. She tried to tune them out but they were relentless. 

People. People where everywhere, some she knew; others were faceless - a sea of black squeezing her hand, her shoulder. She forced a smile, numb to everything except the ring that sat heavy on her hand. 

She felt a warm touch on her hand, she looked to her left to see Alex, a woman who was a stranger to her a mere week ago looking at her with concern. She knew their faces mirrored each other, both drawn and taut in the way only endless crying and heartbreak could bring. Red-rimmed eyes, smudged mascara, and concealer long since washed away  
by endless tissues. 

She gave her a tight upturn of her lips, almost sagging in relief to see the crowd dwindling and slowly taking their seats. She didn’t need to look down at her watch to know the time. The sun was now shining through the stained glass windows of the church, bathing both women in a broken spectrum of colour. 

It was a hot Saturday morning, Serena’s heavy dress itched as she shifted under the stifling humidity. She knew it was stupid to wear the hefty material but she once complimented her in this dress, a long time ago when things were easier, simpler, less complicated.

Down the aisle, through the open wooden doors she heard a car pull up to the steps. Listened as the engine turned off and two doors close with a solid thud. She knew the sounds that would come next, the click clack tap of the polished black shoes of the six service men that would exit the church and head for the hearse. She looked at Alex, dressed smartly in her uniform, and for a brief second she wondered if the slim woman could support her weight as she swayed slightly. The room suddenly spinning. 

A strong arm wrapped around Serena’s waist and gently lowered her to a cold hard pew, a cool bottle of water was pressed into her hand. She nodded her thanks and took a drink of the liquid using anything to distract herself. Alex sat down next to her and finally Serena realised what she had seen in her; quiet and confident a bit lost herself, never leaving Serena’s side. She had been a godsend these past few days. 

It had all started when she turned up on her doorstep seven days ago.

\--

_I don’t know why I did the things I did,_

_I don’t know why I said the things I said,_

_Pride is like a knife it can cut deep inside,_

_Words are like weapons they wound you sometimes_

The initial shock of the news, the words, of who Alex was, of what she was there to tell her. Words Cameron nor Charlotte could bare to share had knocked her off of her feet. She remembered gripping the door frame as she crumpled, screaming one word over and over again. No. No. No.

The next thing she knew she was on her sofa feet propped up with Alex hovering anxiously, tears staining her face. 

Once she calmed to a numbed shell an old shoe box was pressed into her hands, shaking fingers untied the old army issued boot laces as she pushed the lid off and peered inside. Tipping it upside down the contents spread across her table like a waterfall, at the very end a ring clinked out, bouncing on the table, rolling across the letters before falling on its side in front of Serena. 

She blinked hard, she recognized the ring. It was a simple silver and gold band intertwined together, polished so it gleamed. The same one she couldn’t help but stop and stare at in a small shop in Béziers every night when they would walk by for an evening stroll. Window shopping amongst the winding streets after a day at the vineyard. Serena’s hand clasped firmly in hers, a new sense of pride filling her from such a simple notion. 

Serena tried to talk, tried to say she didn’t know. To convey to Alex that she had no idea she bought the ring, or that she kept it after all this time. She wanted to ask out loud why she had bought it but never gave it to her.

Slowly she began sifting through the papers and small Moleskine notebooks, putting them in chronological order, a letter for every day these past six months, a few from before, when Serena was alone in France. Once she had them in some kind of order she began to read. Soon the words blurred, tears stained the black ink making the messy doctor scrawl almost impossible to read. How could such a stoic, and quiet woman fill hundreds of pages with words addressed to her?

Serena wept. 

\--

_My world was shattered I was torn apart,_

_Like someone took a knife and drove it deep in my heart_

\--

Serena’s shoulder brushed Charlotte’s when they stood as the minister walked up the aisle, she felt Cameron stiffen at the side of her. Placed between the two Wolfe children almost acted as a barrier for what she knew was to come. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Marcus pull out a handkerchief. He had scoffed at the ring, her ring, the ring she had given her. Rolled his eyes when the children insisted she stand with them at the front pew in the church. She had held her own, head lifted high, never more proud to be part of this broken little family that almost never was. 

Her thumb ran over the twisted band on her finger; drawing in a deep breath. Oh how she wished she was dreaming, squeezing her eyes shut of a brief moment she envisioned blonde waves, a sly smile on her lips, and sparkling brown eyes gazing up at her. For one moment she felt at peace, opening her eyes her gaze fell on the Union Jack, slowly passing by draped on a casket carried on the shoulder of six men in uniform. Polished black shoes click, clack, tapped on the cold stone floor on an endless march to the altar.  
She clenched her left fist feeling the ring bite into her palm before facing the front, nausea clawing its way up her throat. She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She closed her eyes and saw sparkling brown eyes looking back at her. 

\--

_If I could turn back time,_

_If I could find a way_


End file.
